


Devotion

by AluraEmbrey



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble Sequence, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27445738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AluraEmbrey/pseuds/AluraEmbrey
Summary: Some moments strand out in startling clarity.A Song-Inspired, 3+1 style fic, taking a brief look into the frightfully beautiful minds of Hannibal Lecter & Will Graham.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 19





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> I am new to the Hannibal fandom (quarantine has been good for something) and did not expect myself to contribute UNTIL Astrid S released a new album. I wasn’t going to do anything with the idea, but THEN Sam Smith’s new album came out and I could no longer contain myself. Too many feelings. So here we have it: a 3+1 style fic of moments in the boy’s minds during the back half of season two and the first half of season 3. This is basically a song-inspired, un-beta’d, word vomit session. Sorry in advanced. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own only my imaginings of what these boys should be.

_Oh, babe, I really need you  
_ _My feelings getting deeper  
_ _My mind is in a free fall  
_ _But there's nothing I can do when it comes to you  
_ _You play with my emotions  
_ _I'm flowing like the ocean  
_ _I pray for your devotion  
_ _'Cause there's nothing I can do when it comes to you_

  * **_[My Oasis - Same Smith ft. Burna Boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byO74UGa8bI&list=PL9uQz-WVkjYDqtXn3oXjhDn8V5MMCLGj3&index=1) _**



\-----

Hunger was not a new feeling to Hannibal Lecter. A terrible winter with too little food had taught him the hallow depth of it. Worse conditions in a Soviet orphanage instructed him in the ringing silence of it. Even when taken back to the world of beauty and abundance, Hannibal had not forgotten the lessons learned. Hunger was imprinted deep in the foundation of his mind palace, in stark whites and crimson reds.

More beauty, more food, more art, Hannibal Lecter hungered for it all. He would be the first to admit his hedonistic lifestyle. There were simply too many things in this world to hunger for to deny himself when he had the means to obtain it.

He hungered for Will Graham in all the ways a man like him could. Though he did not share the same depth of imagination, Hannibal had no shortage of thoughts of Will in every debauched state possible. Satiation found in the view of Michelangelo’s David come to life in his sheets, in the taste of Will on his tongue day after day…

Though he had never expected to find one, Will was an oasis in the desert of dull pigs. Thirst like a hunger would soon be quenched. Hannibal need only reach through the rabble of Jack Crawford and humanities attempts at morality to hatch his god from its chrysalis.

Devotion, however, was a new emotion. The feeling of willing supplication at the altar of another being was not an emotion that Hannibal had ever thought he’d feel. God was an interesting intellectual pursuit, an important historical context to truly appreciate art, but never a tangible feeling flowing within him like an ocean.

Yet as he witnessed each step of Will Graham’s arresting Becoming, the Doctor found himself more and more drawn to the idea of prayer. If only he could sit Will upon a worthy throne and kneel at his feet, then life would surely flourish. Already Hannibal could feel the world getting brighter. The darkness of their nearly conjoined souls contrasted the world, making each color more profound than ever his eye had seen before.

Will needed only to finally see the beauty as well.

The drink of water was so very close. Hannibal could nearly taste it.

* * *

_I hope you understand  
That I have to send you away  
You may not understand  
But I know that you will one day_

_You're broken, I know this  
And if you knew it  
You would love me a whole different way_

  * **_[Love Goes – Sam Smith& Labrinth](https://youtu.be/b3BZRjqmJg8?list=PL9uQz-WVkjYDqtXn3oXjhDn8V5MMCLGj3)_**



\-----

As he stared at Will’s shaking form, Hannibal could feel what he needed to do. The pain from his battle with Jack was nothing next to the pain of what he knew was coming next. What had to happen.

He had to let Will go.

He had tried to help Will see. To understand that the broken pieces of himself could come together into a beautiful new creature of darkness and strength. They had come so close; the tableau of Randall Tier still sang within his soul, even as Hannibal remembered the sting of betrayal in the smell of Freddie Lounds on Will’s skin.

In the end, Will could not shake himself free of society’s shackles and thus he could not piece himself together. He would forever give parts of himself away in hopes of finally belonging to a world that he was not meant to be a part of, but rather to rule over.

The oasis had been a mirage.

As the knife sank into the flesh of his false god, Hannibal still grappled with the urge to repent. He has made a place for him and Abigail both, a place for their family. Hannibal pulled Will closer, taking one last deep breath, committing the feeling of Will in his arms to his Memory Palace. A place he could keep for them always.

He had to let Will go.

He had to let Abigail go.

That is what happens when a man like him plays with faith.

* * *

_Did you lie to me when you said I was all that you need?  
Guess we'll never know all the beautiful things we could be_

  * **_[Forgive Myself – Sam Smith](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=50d_eeEg_AQ&list=PL9uQz-WVkjYDqtXn3oXjhDn8V5MMCLGj3&index=3)_**



\-----

The streets of Florence were dull.

The Botticelli had lost its luster.

The food of Italy was tasteless.

_(“Tasteless.” A voice echoed from a sweeter time.)_

Upon fleeing the authorities Hannibal had thought it wise to revisit the halls of his youth. Florence had healed a part of him before, made him a man in all the ways that mattered. It had made sense that the city could do so again.

Yet the colors were flat and the sounds sharp and out of tune. The beautiful local language felt like sandpaper on his tongue, grated on his ears like death wails. Dante was lackluster. The opera muted. Bedelia was a grating reminder of loss the likes of which he had not felt since he was a voiceless child.

In the end he was only another foolish Gatsby. Grasping uselessly at his halcyon days of glory. Trying to repeat the past.

He had seen the most profoundly magnificent artwork this world or any other had to offer and he had let it go. His hands had held perfection in those precious moments of final connection as their link severed.

Everything else was bland and lifeless in comparison.

* * *

+1 Will  
  


_Don't trust myself, 'cause I know  
You'll find a way into my head  
Tried to quit but I just can't help myself  
'Cause I'm obsessed with you_

  * **_[Astrid S – Obsessed](https://youtu.be/lTMY6rjsa-s?list=PL9uQz-WVkjYDqtXn3oXjhDn8V5MMCLGj3)_**



\-----

Each day in the last eight months felt like an eternity. Each day Will awoke with the memories of a searing pain in his stomach counteracted by the gentle caress of a strong hand on his jaw. The memory of Hannibal’s victorious sweat lingered in his nose like a bad aftertaste. Abigail’s death throws echoed in his mind.

Finally people believed him. Hannibal Lecter was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, preying on them all.

Why didn’t he feel better? Vindicated?

Instead he felt only a pull like gravity, whispering in his ear. He needed to move, needed to follow the tug centered in the scar of his gut.

He finished the boat he had been working on. Spoke to Abigail when no one was around to tell him otherwise. Remembered the caress like devotion on his skin in the moments before the pain became apparent.

(Remembered Hannibal guiding his hand into the water to clean his battered knuckles. Recalled their last meal, a final offering of lamb which could not wash away the piles of sins between them.)

The pull called him across the ocean. Day by day at sea the call was stronger, a siren’s song of melancholy could-have-beens. Will tried to numb the pain, but somehow it tasted sweeter each day. Briny like the waters, yet balanced by the naturally pleasant need for more on this palate.

A broken heart greeted him on the other side of the sea.

Forgiveness echoed amongst the dead.

The next act of their story was only just beginning. Neither could quit the other.

**Author's Note:**

> PS. Check out Astrid S. Underrated artist if ever there was one.


End file.
